


We're Only Young Until We're Old

by dametokillfor



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Future, Fix-It, M/M, Old!Alaric, Original Character(s), but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dametokillfor/pseuds/dametokillfor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a future marked by disquiet between the humans and the now public vampires, Damon and Alaric have a moment of peace after thirty years apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Only Young Until We're Old

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Emili Sande's Lifetime. 
> 
> This goes AU somewhere mid-season three. Ric's ring doesn't turn him into a psychotic vampire hunter, Elena never became a vampire, Klaus never sired the Salvatore's bloodline and somehow I've created a whole new explosive timeline.

Damon hates the place on sight. To be fair, he had planned to hate it all along, had a quip prepared for the very moment he saw it, but this takes him aback. 

The small room is pathetic, covered in ugly, outdated wallpaper with a stained beige carpet. The bed in the corner of the room is too clinical, a horrible metal frame at odds with the faux homey atmosphere the cheap decor is trying to suggest. The small TV in the corner is on, news reports about the vampire problem playing at the kind of volume only the old ever use. The man in the large recliner chair isn't even watching it anymore, he's staring out of the window at the late summer sunset, as if his surroundings disgust him as much as they do Damon.

"Mr Saltzman, you have a visitor." The young nurse at his arm says.

"I don't want to see anybody." The gruff voice comes from the chair. It's hoarse, as if he never speaks unless absolutely necessary. 

The nurse rolls her eyes, "No, of course you don't because you're a melodramatic old grouch."

Damon can't help but crack a smile at that. The flame haired nurse leaves his side and flips off the TV, before going to stand in front of Alaric, "Believe me, you'll want to see this gentleman though."

She beckons for Damon to come over to her. He tentatively tests the barrier, his hand bouncing off the magic designed to keep him out. He shrugs. 

"Ah, forgot about that. Well, we could be here a long time." She says, getting to her feet and walking back over to Damon, "It took him a year before he invited me in. I'm sorry, he's a..."

"Come in, Damon." 

The voice is so quiet, Damon almost thinks he's imagined it. He lifts a hand to test the barrier again, finds himself able to pass through. He takes a step forward, as if afraid he'll somehow be forced out again.

The nurse is smiling, "Take as long as you need. I'll just offhandedly mention to anyone who comes anywhere near just how hungry I am."

She closes the door behind them, leaves them to it.

"I like her." Damon says, finally finding his voice, "She's feisty."

Alaric doesn't say a word. Damon is trying to find the nerve to go round and face him. It's been nearly thirty years and he's not above admitting to himself that he's absolutely terrified. 

"Don't sleep with my nurse, Damon."

"You wound me, Ric." 

Damon smiles to himself, the banter coming as easy as it ever did now Alaric’s broken the tension. He slowly pads across the room, drops into the empty seat by Alaric. He looks across to his friend.

The poor man looks exhausted. There are deep wrinkles lining his face, each one telling a story Damon wants to hear. His skin is tinged with yellow, a sign his liver had finally turned round and told him to fuck off with the bourbon.

His hair is thinning and grey, yet still in the charming floppy style Damon remembers so well. He's thin, too thin. Damon makes a mental note to threaten the kitchen staff for letting him get like this. (It won't do much but it'll make him feel better at least).

His dark eyes are reddened and tired, so tired. That's probably what hits Damon the hardest. There's no sign of life there anymore, like he's ready to give up.

Despite it all though, Damon can't help but feel a sense of happiness seeing him this way. 

"You're a real silver fox." He quips.

There's a ghost of a smile across the other man’s face, "They crowned me Mr Sunny Dales the last four years in a row."

"I should move in, make it a fair contest next year." 

"I'd still kick your ass." 

There's a soft shared laugh before they fall silent. 

"You do look good though, Ric. I like you like this."

"Because an 86 year old, with a failing liver, fake arm and none of my own teeth is exactly your type, right?"

"Because you survived to be an 86 year old with a failing liver, fake arm - which you had when we knew each other - with none of your own teeth." Damon answers, "I like you like this because it means you got to live your life, unlike..."

He trails off, doesn't mean to but can't help it. Alaric knows though. _Elena. Jeremy._ They'd had to bury them both, before they'd even hit 25.

"I'm sorry. Just... you don't look any different, makes me feel even older."

Damon is acutely aware of how he hasn't aged a day. His hair is shorter now, a light dusting of stubble lining his cheeks, but otherwise, he's exactly the same as he always was. All silver-blue eyes, overly expressive eyebrows, tight muscle and dangerous charm.

"Please, you're still just a young whippersnapper to me." Damon says, "Got a good 130 plus years on you, Ric. By the way, you still owe me a gift for my 200th birthday. I sat by the mailbox all day and nothing. Ate an anti-vamp campaigner in frustration. You know I hate the taste of self-righteousness."

Ric huffs a laugh.

They fall into a companionable silence again, the long years they've been away from each other melting away into nothing. Damon reaches across and takes Ric's hand, the real one. His fingers are cold, rough. Ric doesn't shy away, lets Damon touch him. 

Damon squeezes his hand, half smiles at him.

"You shouldn't have left." Damon tells him, softly.

"I nearly got you killed." Ric tells him.

"You've been nearly getting me killed for years now." Damon points out, "I've been nearly getting myself killed even longer."

"They staked you because you were distracted by me."

"They also missed."

"And if they hadn't?"

"They did."

Once upon a time, Ric and Damon would have fought over such a thing. They'd have had a ridiculous, long, brutal fight over how Damon shouldn't have taken his eyes off the hunters, how he knew what he was doing, how Ric was an old fusspot and needed to relax and did he realise just how hot he looked when he was that pissed off? There would have been a punch to the face and they'd have fallen into bed, both taking their frustrations out on one another.

Now though, neither of them have the energy to even argue. Ric's too old, Damon's too tired.

"What are you doing in here, Ric?" He asks, "The boarding house..."

"The palace, you mean."

" _The boarding house_ ," Damon corrects, "you could come back with me. It's got to be better than here."

"Even with the attacks from the anti-vampire movement?"

"Oh please, that just makes things more interesting."

"Might have been when I could still kick their asses." Alaric says, wistfully, "Though I could stand there, shaking my stick and yelling at them to get off my lawn."

"The perfect bodyguard."

"I'd be a liability, Damon." Ric says, "The fanatics find out you have a human in the house and they'd tear the place apart trying to save me. I'm better here."

"You're safer here, doesn't always mean better. Besides, you really think these people wouldn't have heard of the great Alaric Saltzman? The man who single handedly brought down the Original Hybrid? Damon Salvatore's human beau? Mr Sunny Dales four years running?" 

"Please, Damon, I'm a myth." Ric says, "You know why I'm here?"

Damon doesn't answer, doesn't have a snappy sarcastic come back planned for this.

"I fell." Alaric explains, "I fell and I couldn't get to my feet. I was stuck in my motel room til the maid found me a few hours later. I didn't know where I was, I was confused and lost and I kept asking for you.

"The maid called an ambulance, I ended up in hospital. They asked me who I was, whether I had any family, whether there was anyone they could call." Alaric explains, "They didn't believe a word I said. Even with my ID, they didn't believe me. They sent me here, decided I couldn't cope on my own anymore.

"Mollie, the nurse you met, she's the only one who believes me. Even now." 

Damon makes a mental note to make sure she's looked after, to send one of his best to keep an eye on her.

"So if even the people who know me don't believe me, you really think a bunch of hyped up vampire haters will? It'll just look like you've kidnapped some decrepit old fart, fresh blood that won't put up a fight."

Damon's speechless, the first time in a long time. 

"I'm better here, Damon." Ric repeats, as if he's trying to make himself believe it too.

Damon half smiles, "You're probably right."

Ric chuckles, "I've been waiting 50 years to hear you tell me I'm right." 

"I can compel you to forget it." Damon threatens, half-heartedly.

"Not a chance, I'm going to savour that." Ric says.

The silence falls over them again, reminding both of times long past when neither of them needed to say a word. As much as they enjoyed arguing, bantering and snarking, they could also sit for hours together, quiet and content just knowing the other was there. 

“I missed you, Ric.” Damon admits, softly, almost inaudibly.

“Me too.” Ric replies, looking over at Damon again.

Damon lifts his hand to his lips, presses a gentle kiss to the paper thin skin there. He’s cold, so damn cold, _isn’t there any damn heating in this place?_

“Salvatore, if you even think about eating him…”

He looks round, sees Mollie standing behind them, hands on her hips. There’s no anger, no real threat in her tone, though Damon gets the feeling she’d destroy anyone who even dared touch Alaric in the wrong way.  
“Please, we got past that 50 years ago.” Damon says, and fuck, has it been that long?

“That’s not what he told me.” Mollie offers with a smirk, coming round in front of them.

“I feel violated.”

Mollie and Ric share a laugh before she turns serious.

“Visiting hours are over. Apparently I’m not scary enough to convince the wardens otherwise.” She says, “So I’m going to have to kick you out.”

She smiles sadly at the pair of them, “I’ll give you a minute, yeah?”

Damon nods, “Thanks.”

She leaves them to it. Damon doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to go back to Virginia, to the boarding house, has absolutely no desire to be treated like some vampire king.

He wants to stay here, fingers entwined with those of the only person who ever really got him. He wishes more desperately than he ever has before that he was human, that he’d grown old with Ric, that they were just two old men reminiscing about the old days when they were young and pretty and couldn’t keep their hands off each other. He wants to sleep with him one last time, just sleep, lay next to him and hold him in his arms, feel his heart beating steadily in his chest. 

“I’ll come back.” He lies.

He knows that Ric knows it’s a lie, that as much as Damon doesn’t want to leave, he couldn’t bring himself to return.

“Bring bourbon.” Ric says, unwilling to argue, “It’s been too long since I’ve had a decent drink.”

Damon laughs, “Sure.”

He gets to his feet, leans down and presses a kiss to Ric’s hair. As he pulls away, he feels Ric’s hand tangle in his shirt and he’s pulled down again, so he’s nose to nose with him.

“Thirty years, Damon. _Thirty years_.” Ric reminds him, “You’re not getting away with a damn kiss to the head.”

He presses his lips to Damon’s and they’re dry and chapped and it’s awkward but it’s perfect and Damon doesn’t know how he’s lived the last thirty years without this. It’s soft, it’s gentle, it’s a hello and a goodbye all in one.

Ric breaks the kiss first, still suffering from that annoying mortal affliction of needing to breathe. He opens his eyes and looks straight at Damon and there’s that spark, that life that Damon fell in love with all those years ago. 

There’s an almost awkward silence between them, as if they should be saying something now, declaring something they both know. 

“Expensive bourbon.” Ric says, after a long moment.

“The best I can find.” Damon agrees.

There’s a smile across Ric’s face now, the rare truly happy grin that so few people ever got to see. Damon can’t help but smile broadly back at him. 

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Damon offers.

Ric nods, “Goodbye Damon.”

“Bye, Ric.”

\---x

Damon gets the call from Mollie the next morning. 

Alaric Saltzman passed away peacefully in his sleep at the age of 86. 

There was a smile on his face when Mollie had found him. She’d asked Damon if he’d had anything to do with that, knew about his habits of influencing dreams. 

He smiles to himself, hits the end call button.

**Author's Note:**

> After reading many fics about Alaric becoming a vampire for Damon, or how it was an inevitability for them, I found myself wanting to explore the other side. (Don't get me wrong, I love the fics with Ric as a vampire, this isn't meant as an attack on them, just an alternate idea). 
> 
> Part of the reason I love Alaric's character is because of his humanity. I can't imagine he'd have ever chosen being a vampire. If it came down to dying for good and becoming a vampire, I imagine Damon would have to force him into becoming a vampire. I also can't see him ever have taken to being a 'normal' vampire especially well, he'd have driven Damon insane. 
> 
> So with that in mind, with the idea that they'd always be vampire/human, how would they have dealt with all the issues that threw up? The ageing and all that entailed, the insecurity of a 60/70/80 something being with an eternal 20 something, Ric becoming weaker, the possibility of illness taking him before vampires did. 
> 
> Of course, I completely managed to miss all of that out and just give them a bittersweet ending, but the fact is I thought about it and surely that counts for something? 
> 
> I may return to this timeline and play with those other ideas one day.


End file.
